The Lion Amongst the Wolves
by LionsWithBells
Summary: Set long before the 'Hunger Games' trilogy, around the 10th Hunger Games, a story from the girl tribute from District 8 and how from the start district 12 never played by the rules. Starting a few months before the reaping.


'All species are capable or grasping this fact manage better in the struggle for existence than those which rely upon their own strength alone: the wolf, which hunts in a pack, has a greater chance of survival than the lion, which hunts alone.'

-Christian Lous Lange

'Vita mutate, non jollity'

-Life is changed, not taken away-

Sitting, that was the last thing they would expect me to be doing. The factories loomed over but I had managed to slip between two of them unnoticed, the main strip was filled with the district's workers. There was little noise recently everyone seemed to have lost the need to talk to one another. I had been up before dawn to get into work. I was in one of the newer factories by new I mean they had created a new floor to one of the old buildings, with all the work stations up there the floor was already bowing. I had been asked to go and collect one of the supply boxes of threads to bring back. There were only four of us in today I think the others had more important things to work on the dresses for the capitol.

The box of threads sat beside me pushed right up against the metal wall of the nearest factory, I had always referred to them as tins at least that what my brothers had called them. It did make them sound less threatening. The cold night had managed to freeze the early morning dew to the sides of the tins, so they were frosted over with a freezing layer but I would still rather be hiding out back here than be slaving away on that dress. Unfortunately my uniform barely kept me warm; the frost easily soaked in at the back as I had lolled back against the tin. The top was a thin linen material fashioned into a button-up shirt, the sleeves were never the right length so mine were bunched up near my shoulders. The trousers were as bad an old pair of hand-me-down trousers, they were made of flannel unfortunately they only barely made it to my knees. The sheer winter gust plummeted the temperature in the factories most were only warm due to the amount of bodies being stuck inside or the constant thundering of the machines.

I pulled my knees up wrapping my arms around my shins and placing my chin between my knees. My hair fell down the sides of my cheeks there was no need to make an effort with it anymore. The hair did not obscure my view ahead though. There was only three inches between my toes and the fence, beyond the fence was the vast rest of Panem. You couldn't have seen anything from where I sat, a few trees some ruins that may once have been structures. There was the train station the track was just about visible. It carried supplies to us, and our wares away; it was the only way out. I had once volunteered to help at the train station but they always turned me away they had little use for a sixteen year old girl, I wasn't even built for hard labour they could see that. Instead I was only accepted for fine detail work on dresses, I did a good job so they told me and I willingly believed them.

The wind was picking up and the monstrous tins creaked and heaved pained with their own weight. I huddle my legs closer still. Out in the vast expanse of deserted Panem little stirred, some of the weeds attempted to fly away with the wind but they were rooted here much like I was. The clouds that had only this morning been sparse now collected together they must extend easily over a mile wide now and the colour had darkened like it had been burnt and still it brought rain. There was a haze way off in the distance of the water falling like a torrent from the sky. I best make a move; I pulled the shoddy box of threads towards me.

"Hey." A sharp voice made my breath stop itself; this had the opposite effect on the rest of me as I leapt to my feet clutching the box my reason for being out here. In my hurry the box had collapsed at one side and the threads on their squares of cardboard, their bobbins and cogs had begun to slip out. Landing again to the ground my shins took a hard blow from the gravel in my hurry to gather up the threads and be on my way. Soon the ominous presence over my shoulder could be felt they must have made a great effort to come back here after me.

Their boots were the first thing in my vision, sturdy and well made, all too familiar. I had spent many weekends when I was younger shining the peacekeepers' boots to make a little more money for my family. As I took up my last handful of wares I stood up to my full height a little taken aback when I realised I wasn't much shorter than the peacekeeper. Making our eyes meet unavoidably as they were on a similar level, his a cold brown, almost black. Their hair was a similar dark tone and neatly pulled back. He was an older man, he looked like he had been in a fight or two, tough in the face. His skin was dry and his face looked as though he had not slept well for some weeks now. There were bags beginning to form a puffy mournful cloud under his eyes, his whole face drooped slightly yet it was still gaunt and thin. He had a sombre look about him. He only seemed as familiar as I cared to make myself with peacekeepers. He strained his eyes I suspected that he recognised me.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" He questioned me, I was not quite sure if I ought to reply. If I didn't he would think I was being disrespectful and if I did perhaps he would accuse me of talking back.

A polite, "Yes Sir, sorry." Was what I expected would suffice, although his look to me gave a different impression.

His hand easily gripped around my entire arm, he clearly wasn't from district eight, he didn't have the look nor the manner. He was quick to pull me alongside him, there was not even an utterance as he held tight to my arm there was no choice but to follow. I caught my bare arms several times on the thin alleyway between the tins; their rusted sides were not forgiving. I yelped slightly as a nail scored through my skin and the blood began to swell to the surface. There was no easy way back to the main strip the reason as to why he had found his way to where I had been still played on my mind. The ebbing pain did kind of push that away though.

Although the clouds coverage was the same this side of the buildings as where I had been being pulled out onto the strip like this felt so much brighter like everyone could see me. There were fair amounts of people moving from tin to tin. It was the hub of movement especially whilst everyone was at work, it felt like we were cooped slaving over clothes but being out here it felt like everyone could see you. The peacekeeper seemed to keep his grip on my arm even though now I gave a tug to test how well he held it. Surely he couldn't punish me for this, then there was a stirring in my stomach, he could.

The peacekeeper seemed to make a signal that caused another to join. The second had been loitering around one of the factory's doors. He was a familiar face, from here in eight. He had the grey eyes and rusted hazel hair that were both so common here. He was likely a distant relation of mine, as both traits ran strong in my family. He was more recognizable than most, possibly a friend of one of my brothers. He looked at me, through the thin screen of his helmet they were made to wear.

"Let her get back to work, Dogberry, we have other things to deal with." The younger one seemed to watch me the whole time, I understood they shouldn't be letting me go I should be punished and Dogberry knew this.

"What do you know Al, you're a child!" He shouted at him, now the drawn faces of those passing were being to slow something was happening and they wished to watch.

"I am in charge for this area of the district don't you go forgetting that!" Al stepped forward; there had been unrest between the citizens and the peacekeepers since they were forced to keep 'the peace'. It was often that those appointed from the district itself were more willing to give chances, let slide small problems, like me.

"You, a boy from district eight you have no rank over me. You should go back to your little tie tying." Dogberry snorted then his grip loosened and I quickly pulled my arm from him, clasping both my now freed arms around the box of threads. There was a moment when I met Al's watch and he nodded taking my silence thanks and I turned and ran.


End file.
